


Strategizing

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Chas and John [1]
Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Casual Sex, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John decides he’s in the mood for sex with Chas - not irregular. The difference tonight is that Chas alters his strategy somewhat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strategizing

John sleeps in the car on the way home. It doesn't make much of a difference, as that is usually his tendency on any longer journey by automobile, but what _is_ unusual is perhaps the energy with which he springs from the back of the taxi afterwards.

“Chas.” John says as he steps from the car, and his body is pressed against Chas' within the next instant, hands spread on the flannel of Chas' shirt, mouth nearly against his chin.

“John.” Chas warns him in a low voice, because Constantine has that _look_ on his face, his tongue against his lower lip and his gaze half-lidded, and Zed's eyebrows are raised as she watches them.

“Inside.”

“ _John_ , Zed is right there.” Chas is blunt, but it's never easy to push John off the trail when he's in a mood for sex, and especially not when he's in the mood for sex with _Chas._ He gets like this, now and then, gets suddenly demanding and desperate, and Chas shouldn't indulge him, shouldn't let John climb atop him as he likes, but it's so difficult _not_ to when John is so _needy._

“You don't mind, do you, Zed? Chas ain't your type.” John speaks without wrenching his gaze away from Chas' mouth, and he always looks so _good_ when he's after sex. Chas shouldn't. He shouldn't, he shouldn't, he _shouldn't_.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Go right ahead.” Zed says, and her unimpressed and mildly perplexed expression means that when Chas is cooking breakfast tomorrow morning he's going to have to answer questions he doesn't much feel like answering.

Chas shouldn't, and like always, he's going to anyway.

He lets John push him towards the stairs and then it's _him_ pulling Constantine, down the corridor and into Chas' room because it's closer, and when John is eager he's _primal_ and motivated enough that his own bed isn't much of a thought to him. It's here, of course, that Chas strays as he does from the point of something he really shouldn't do to something that's entirely and intoxicatingly _sinful._

He pushes John off him, even though the other man's hands had been a warm and pleasant comfort spread on his chest, and says with a low and half-growled imperative, “Clothes off.”

John _shudders._

It's a full body spasm, and it comes with a soft _whine_ from the base of John's throat, but the coat and tie are immediately ripped off and thrown aside, and then he's rapidly shrugging off his clothes and kicking of his shoes before throwing himself forwards.

Chas allows it, catching John by the hips before leaning down a little; he _lets_ John kiss him, but he doesn't kiss back, not yet. Chas brings him back towards the bed, and then he throws John onto the mattress, expression expectant.

“On your back, John.” He obeys, like he always obeys when he gets like this, and he's breathing heavy, looking up at Chas with a sort of sick satisfaction. His cock is half-hard between his legs, and bruises from the day are starting to blossom all over his skin, but he doesn't seem to mind for now. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want your _cock_ , Daddy.” John says the last like the filthy word it is, throws out the “d” with his tongue flicking hard against the back of his own teeth. He takes an obscene pleasure in being so _dirty_ like this, partly because he's a magician entrenched in all manner of sin and black spells, and partly because he's an obnoxious _ass_ who wants to provoke Chas into being as rough with him as possible.

As if Chas needs provocation.

“Do you?” Chas says, because John wants to talk, but he needs a foothold to start.

“God, yeah. I want your cock so far up my arse I'll feel it against my teeth, want you to drop me down on it again and again and again, want you to bruise me up, Chas.” He's like a _demon_ when he's in the mood. “I _want_ it.”

“Yeah, you made that clear.” There's a pause. Chas doesn't move; he just crosses his arms over his chest and waits, watching John expectantly. He's normally got lube and a condom in his hands by now, but he's not going to do the work tonight, not like he has before.

John doesn't _get_ it, doesn't seem to comprehend that the world isn't bowing to his cock for a few moments, and he shifts in his place on the bed where he's spread out, brow furrowing, expression uncertain. It takes about half a minute of John looking more and more awkward, and then he says softly, “D- D- Chas?”

“You were closer the first time.” Chas retorts, tone stern, and John relaxes just slightly, given that he's been reassured Chas isn't about to throw him out of bed.

“Daddy.” John says, but he still looks _unsure._ Chas can't help but take a sadistic pleasure in watching him flop like a fish, just for a few moments more.

“Well, John? Are you going to get yourself ready or not?” John watches him with a weighted anticipation as Chas unbuckles his belt and undoes his fly. “'Cause I got faith in you, pal, but I don't think you want to take _this_ without some preparation.” Constantine lets out a _moan_ , and then he throws himself at Chas' bedside table, rifling through for lube and dropping a condom aside on the bed.

Chas begins to slowly undress as he watches, and it's definitely a show worth paying attention to; John is all but squirming on his own fingers as she shoves them inside him, moves up from one to two to three with a haste that is telling of his usual impatience. Chas isn't being too lofty when he considers that his cock is still going to give John something of a _stretch_ to take.

He doesn't get fucked too often, after all – it's only every few months, when the mood strikes and suddenly John Constantine is desperate to climb Chas Chandler like a tree. Chas never has the confidence to press for more. Maybe this time.

“Scissor 'em, Johnny-boy.” John _shakes_. “Let your fingers stretch that little ass wide – s'not gonna be tight once I'm done with it anyway.” John moans, but he obeys, and Chas watches for a few moments, just watches the way the pucker between his legs pinks up and gives way for the sake of his fingers pushing its edges apart. It _glistens_ slightly, but so do the inside of John's thighs, because he'd been clumsy with the bottle regardless of how cool its content were, and he's managed to get the stuff _every_ where.

“Want it, Chas, want it _now_.”

“Yeah?” Chas' shoes are kicked aside, and now his clothes are each dropped neatly over the back of his desk chair; he begins to take slow, deliberate steps forwards, and John watches him, three fingers crooked inside of his own ass and pressing as far as he can manage to get them. “Keep talking, John.”

“I want your prick, Chas, I want you to stop being such a bloody cocktease and _fuck_ me with your great, big, fucking cock, and I want it _now_.” Chas raises his eyebrows when John's tone comes _biting_ and sharp, more than impatient, and with that he turns away to pick up his shirt as if to put it on again. “Wait!” John says. God, Chas _loves_ this, loves how needy John's tone is. “Please. Please.” He's never said “please” in bed before.

Chas has to take a moment to suppress a grin. He quickly gives himself a rub from base to tip and slides the condom on, in the full knowledge that John is watching him with bated breath.

And then he throws himself onto the bed and grabs John by the hair, dragging him forwards in order to bite at his neck and drag his teeth over the skin, and John lets out such a loud groan that Chas knows Zed will be teasing him about it in the morning. John's fingernails are harsh on the skin of his back, digging into the flesh and pulling him closer, and Chas lines his hips up.

The first thrust is always more like _impaling_ John than fucking him.

John lets out a sort of ragged half-scream that catches in his throat as his own weight drops him down into Chas' lap, and Chas watches his spine curve as he throws his head back, clenching _tight_ around the base of Chas' prick. “You're gonna keep doing the work here, John. I've had a long day, too long a day to stand for pampering a spoilt little _boy_. You wanna come on my cock? You _work_ for it.”

John's breathing is patchy, and he's all but _gasping_ every few moments, as pliable as a rag doll. “God, you're a piece of work, Chas.” He manages to say between desperate breaths for air, but he begins to work his own thighs, hands settling on Chas' shoulders ( _he has to reach_ _ **up**_ _, of course)_ as he begins to fuck himself on the length inside him.

“Look who's talking.” Chas retorts, and John's rueful little chuckle is worth the vibration it puts through him.

He sits back, then, and just delights in the hot, wet vice that drags itself up before dropping itself down, the feel of John's lube-wet thighs slick against his own, the sound of John's breaths and little eager noises and the twitch of his _cock_ against Chas' belly _._ There's so much to delight in, after all.

“You're a slut, John.” Chas says when he feels the tension _really_ begin to straighten John's form out, when his muscles begin to tense and his knees press tight against Chas' legs because he's getting close to letting loose.

“I'm a slut, Daddy. I'm a big old _slag._ ” Chas slaps his ass, and John _lurches_ , gasping out a whine. He looks from Chas' face to his own cock, and then he bites his own lip, and he wants to ask _permission_ , but he doesn't know how. “Don't you think I'm a pretty lad, _Dad_?”

“Ask, and maybe I'll say yes.” Chas says by way of answer, and John _groans._ He doesn't want to ask, definitely doesn't want to ask, but he's also a bit nervous still of doing it _without_ permission. His right hand twitches, and Chas _grabs_ it before Constantine can _think_ of moving it to his own crotch.

“Caught my hand in the cookie jar.”

“ _Ask_.”

“Don't feel like it.”

“Don't feel like coming? Okay, John.” Chas grasps at his other hand, and he holds both of them between their chests, beginning to _bounce_ the other man in his lap with rapid rolls of his own hips, and John's _eyes_ go wide, and he begins to _wriggle_.

Nothing is quite as good as the ass of a man _squirming_ in your lap when you're buried nine inches inside him.

One obscene slap of flesh on flesh as John is brought _up_ and then down again; Chas has never seen his cheeks so _red_ under his stubble. A second, and then a third- more come, and John says through gritted teeth: “ _Chas._ ”

“John?”

“ _Let me._ ” He all but _hisses_ the words: it's almost like supplication.

“Let you what, John? Tell Daddy what you want.” John growls with his teeth still grit, and he tries to punch Chas with the fists held between them, but he can't quite manage it, and he's getting _pissed_ now, because Chas hasn't just given him what he _wants_ tonight, and Chas feels _great_ for it.

He's a stubborn little ass when he feels like it, but- “Let me come. _Please_.” Chas is surprised he doesn't follow it up by spitting in Chas' face.

“Good lad.” Chas says, and he transfers his grip on John's hands to just his left before throwing the other man. John looks momentarily _furious_ as he lands on his back, ready to throw a tantrum, but then Chas' spare hand wraps around his cock and he begins to jerk the other man off as he _slams_ his hips home.

John _chokes_ on it, and it's the most satisfying noise Chas has heard in a while.

When he comes, his orgasm spatters on his own belly as he lets out _whines_ and heaves in breaths under Chas' weight on his wrists. Chas comes with a grunt before he pulls back, pulling off the condom and tying it to drop into the waste basket in the corner. He glances to the side, and John is _sprawled_ , watching him sleepily and _confusedly._

“Y'got a bone t'pick w'me, Chas?” He speaks lazily, and half of the words are lost to contraction and a sort of Liverpudlian, diaphragm-powered _urgh._

“Nah. Picked my bones, Johnny.” Chas says, and he wants for a cigarette, but if he has one John will want one as well, and it'll wake him up a bit to have that. Not that Chas wants to take advantage, but it's not _warm_ in the house in January, and he wants John to stay with him in bed. ”Didn't you like it? Seemed like you did.”

“I liked it.” John says lowly, and Chas laughs, sliding back into bed; he pulls John in and against him, and ignores the soft groan of protest Constantine lets out. He relaxes, then though, and he _flops_ against Chas to sleep even though it's barely seven at night.

Chas drags the palm of his hand over his inked-up back, and he relaxes a little, his own eyes closing. John is _definitely_ warm enough to ease off the January sting.

\---

“You were _loud._ ” Zed complains when she comes into the kitchen, and Chas pours egg into the pan. John lets out a dirty little snigger into his blood-stained book. He's being more _docile_ than usual this morning, and his gaze remains sexual even now, his gaze lingering on Chas' ass and crotch more than his face.

“I wasn't loud.” Chas says lightly, refusing to be embarrassed. The back of John's neck turns slightly pink. Zed settles at the side, rubbing at her eyes, and Chas slides a plate of pancakes in front of her.

“Where are we going today, then?”

“Nowhere 'til after twelve.” John says, and Chas raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, love. Got an appointment. In bed, like.” Oh. Well, that's a nice surprise. Chas smirks.

“Sorry, Zed.” Chas says, and she laughs as she reaches for syrup.

“No problem. I've got an appointment at the art supply store. Won't listen to it this time.” Zed meets Chas' gaze when John puts out a greedily grasping hand for a plate's worth of omelette, and he knows he'll have to answer questions _later._

All the same, though, it's sort of worth it.

John looks ready to get _talkative_ , and that's always _fun._

 


End file.
